


the one with the pointed ears

by spicyomens



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Spock (Star Trek), Bratting, Fingering, Flirting, Hook-Up, M/M, Teasing, bratty spock, genital sheath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyomens/pseuds/spicyomens
Summary: rework of “who mourns for adonais” - spock beams down to the planet as part of the landing team, and apollo is charmed by him. extremely charmed.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Spock/Apollo, spock/apollo is Just Sexual, they’re not together Yet - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	the one with the pointed ears

**Author's Note:**

> title from “who mourns for adonais”
> 
> michael forest, the man who played apollo, starred with leonard nimoy in the 1965 film adaptation of jean genet’s “deathwatch,” one of the first american movies to be specifically marketed toward a gay audience. nimoy’s character, jules, is in love with forest’s character, green eyes, in a prison love triangle. it’s great and you can watch it on youtube.
> 
> my friends and i occasionally joke about how spock didn’t get beamed down with the crew bc he and apollo would’ve fucked on sight as an homage to deathwatch. but spock really does deserve to occasionally hook up with hot twunks and be a honey pot with aliens of the week he can actually enjoy himself with. spock and jim aren’t together yet in this fic. so here’s spock fulfilling his duty as a starfleet officer, getting the info his crew members need, and having some fun along the way

Since beaming down to the planet, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scott, Chekov, and Palamas have been met with nothing but surprises. It would seem they are currently being held hostage by the Greek god Apollo, an attractive, mercurial being who demands their devotion. The entity has instigated a standoff with the group.

“I want from you that which is rightfully mine. Your loyalty, your tribute, and your worship.”

“May I ask what you offer in exchange for this worship?” McCoy questions.

“Life in paradise. As simple and as pleasureful as it was those thousands of years ago on that beautiful planet so far away.”

“Apollo, we're willing to talk,” Kirk says reasonably, “but you'll find we don't bow to every creature who happens to have a bag of tricks.”

Apollo regards him critically.

“Agamemnon was one such as you, and Hercules. Pride and arrogance. They defied me until they felt my wrath.”

“I would like to point out that we are quite capable of some wrath ourselves,” Scott growls.

“I have 430 people on that ship up there,” Jim continues.

“No, you do not, Captain. They are mine. To save, to cherish, or to destroy at my will.”

“For what reason?” Spock interjects, having remained silent up until now in order to analyze the situation. “What you have said thus far makes no sense.” 

The self-proclaimed god turns his attention to Spock. He pauses for a few moments to rake his eyes appreciatively over his slim body. Attraction is plain on his face.

“How like Aphrodite and Athena. The beauty, grace,” he says, rising from his seat. “And you seem wise for a non-human. What is your name?”

Not expecting this rapturous response, Spock simply sighs disapprovingly at the entity’s racist remark before responding.

“My name is Spock.”

“Spock. Yes. You are beautiful. You would do Aphrodite credit. I will tell you a thousand tales, stories of courage and love. You will know what it is to be a god.”

Jim takes a step forward, placing his body between his first officer and the dangerous entity.

“Leave him alone. I’m the commanding officer of this group. If you have any issue, take it up with me.”

“You protest?” Apollo asks condescendingly. “You risk much.”

The captain’s eyes flash.

“And so do you.”

He draws his phaser with lightning speed, but it is thrown from his hand with a point of Apollo’s finger. Chekov, having drawn to act as backup for the captain, presses his weapon’s trigger ineffectually.

“Jim,” McCoy says warningly.

Not acknowledging the doctor’s address, Jim bends to pick up his phaser. It’s been warped and melted.

He tilts his head in mock interest.

“Very impressive,” he notes. “How’d you do it?”

Apollo utterly ignores him.

“I’ve grown weary of discussion and argument.”

Ever the vigilant officer, Chekov instantly reports to Kirk.

“Captain, the phasers,” he says, bafflement plain in his voice. “All the working parts are fused.”

“None of your toys will function,” Apollo dismisses Chekov distractedly.

He has eyes only for spock, practically licking his chops before he speaks again.

“Yes. You are a beauty. But far too much clothing.”

The speed with which every member of the landing party’s eyebrows raise is nearly audible.

“I see already that you are enchanting in blue, but I wish to see you outfitted in other colors.”

With a snap of Apollo’s fingers, Spock is significantly colder than he had been an instant before. Investigating the cause of this, he finds that the entity has dressed him in a garment that is frankly pornographic. He wears a loose, deep plum piece of fabric. The cloth resting on his shoulders is bunched, and the toga hangs unfastened and open along the sides, falling to his mid thigh. He is barefoot. A simple breeze would leave him completely exposed.

The captain gasps.

Spock lifts an eyebrow.

“A fine fabric,” he comments blandly.

“Yes.” Apollo extends a hand toward him. “Come.”

Before Spock can follow his lead, a steely voice sounds from his side.

“He's not going with you.”

Without a glance in Jim’s direction, Apollo flicks his wrist offhandedly. The captain is thrown backwards over the table in the center of the temple area, prompting a cry from Lieutenant Palamas.

Spock has already taken a step in his friend’s direction before remembering he must ally with the entity for the sake of the Enterprise. In any case, he knows Jim will be cared for by McCoy.

“He shall learn the discipline of the temple. So shall you all,” Apollo addresses the group.

Returning his attention to Spock, he beckons once again.

Spock chances a glance to the rest of the landing party. Jim is struggling to his feet with the help of McCoy and Scott, his fists clenched and ready to fight. Spock will not have his captain harmed again on his behalf.

“It’s alright, Jim,” he hurries to reassure him. “I’ll go.”

Jim breathes deeply, concern plain on his face as Apollo casts Spock an appreciative gaze.

“Without fear. He is fit indeed.”

Disregarding the entity’s offered hand, Spock walks quickly to his side before Jim can attempt to protect him again. As they stroll away from the group, they fade until they are gone. Jim stares after them.

“I shouldn’t have let them go,” he says through gritted teeth.

“He would’ve been rather difficult to stop,” Scotty points out.

“You saw how capricious he is,” he says, mostly to himself. “One wrong move from Spock and-”

“Jim,” McCoy cuts him off, “I’m worried too, but Spock is more than capable of taking care of himself.”

 _Pull yourself together_ is the unspoken but obvious end to Bones’ declaration.

“He’s doing his job, Captain,” Palamas adds.

“Thank you for your input, Lieutenant. I think it’s about time we started doing ours,” Jim responds. “Please continue your tricorder readings.”

He can’t pinpoint why he’s so fixated on what’s happening to Spock. He cares deeply about his friend, but he knows firsthand that the first officer is extremely experienced and adept - beyond able to keep himself safe and get the information they desperately need. Yet, he’s worried.

As Palamas continues in her work, Spock investigates another area of the planet. He has been transported to a grove by a pond. Another of Apollo’s tricks.

“Fascinating,” Spock comments.

The former god pays no attention to his observation, opting instead to circle him.

“I've known other men. Adonis, Perseus, but none more beautiful than you.”

He moves to place a hand on Spock’s arm, a gesture he easily dodges. Apollo smiles indulgently.

“Are you frightened of me?”

Spock’s eyebrow arches sharply in conjunction with an expression he has heard Jim describe as bemused. How quaint this being is proving to be. 

“As a Vulcan, I am incapable of experiencing fear. Especially from such insufficient stimulus.”

The entity laughs.

“Fearless indeed! I grow interested in your kind. Are all Vulcans so lovely as you?”

“Loveliness is a subjective qualifier.”

“Then are they as bold and clever as you? As cool and impudent?”

Spock turns to further investigate the area. It is verdant and fresh, with a near peculiarly serene atmosphere. A branch caresses his bare hip as he passes a bush too closely.

“I have been told I am more daring than most,” he grants, ready to begin his own line of questioning. “And what of you? What has happened to your kind - Artemis, Hera, and all the others?”

Apollo’s face turns wistful.

“They returned to the cosmos on the wings of the wind.”

“Do you mean that they died?”

“No, not as you understand it,” he shakes his head. “We're immortal, we gods. But the Earth changed. Humans changed. They turned away until we were only memories. A god cannot survive as a memory. We need love, admiration, worship, as you need food.”

Although Spock wishes to learn more about the “return to the cosmos” of the others of Apollo’s species, he senses that to press the obviously sensitive subject may be pushing his luck with the mercurial man. He opts for another tactic.

“You truly believe yourself to be a god?”

The entity’s voice becomes hard, and he rounds on Spock.

“In a real sense, we were gods. We had the power of life and death. We could have struck out from Olympus and destroyed. We have no wish to destroy, so we came home again.”

Spock regards him with genuine interest, and he softens.

“It was an empty place without worshippers, but we had no strength to leave, so we waited, all of us, through the long years.”

“If the others did not die,” spock queries, determining he may be able to safely obtain useful information yet, “then what precisely happened to them?”

For the first time since transporting them to this area, Apollo turns his sparkling eyes from Spock.

“Even for a god, there's a point of no return. Hera was first. She stood in front of the temple and spread herself upon the wind, thinner and thinner, until only the wind remained.”

He returns his hungry gaze to Spock.

“But I knew you would come. Striving, bickering, foolishly brave humans. I knew they would come to the stars one day. And they brought you. Of all the gods, I knew and I waited, waited for you to come and sit by my side.”

Spock once again raises a brow.

“By your side?”

Apollo nods gravely.

“Even 5000 years ago, the gods took mortals to them to love, to care for, like Zeus took Leto, my mother. We were gods of passion, of love.”

Although spock is not surprised, he had not expected Apollo to wish to take him as a spouse. It had seemed logical that the man desired him only as a carnal conquest. While this development offers Spock an advantage, it may also make things more difficult. His top priority remains determining Apollo’s weaknesses. He must share that intelligence with the landing party so they may protect the Enterprise and any future travelers from the entity’s tyranny.

However, there is no Starfleet regulation indicating he cannot enjoy himself in the process.

“I sense you still are.”

Apollo smiles, reaching for spock once again. He deftly moves beyond the being’s muscled arms, taking care to maintain the minimal coverage his outfit affords him.

“You are familiar with only humans,” Spock elaborates, strolling deeper into the grove. “You will find that Vulcans are not so easily seduced.”

Spock knows he is taking a risk by being evasive and insolent, but the behavior flows naturally within the scenario he finds himself.

Judging by the wolffish grin splitting his handsome face, Apollo is up for the chase.

“And what may win your affections?” he chuckles, advancing slowly. “I have given you my love, my devotion, a place by my side as a god...” He roves his eyes over Spock’s barely clad body. “And the first of many gifts.”

Spock tilts his head.

“Though your gift is generous, it is quite scant and thus poorly suited to most activities,” he points out.

“It is perfectly suited to the activities I have in mind for you.”

For the first time since encountering Apollo, Spock feels his face heat. It does not go unnoticed.

“Your coyness only makes you more alluring,” Apollo chuckles. “I grow impatient with these games. I would see you now.”

The former god is obviously not accustomed to delayed gratification with a sexual partner, but Spock will not allow him what he wants so quickly. He blinks innocently.

“You would see me?”

“Yes. Lift your garment aside.” 

Spock raises his brows, maintaining steady eye contact with the entity.

“And if I do not wish to?”

Suddenly, a gust of wind blows through the grove. Spock’s toga is briefly blown to the side, exposing him, before he quickly takes hold of the fabric and pulls it back in place. Apollo laughs heartily, looking extremely pleased with himself. Spock intends to change that.

“I am aware you are accustomed to receiving what you want when you want it,” he says firmly, “but that principle does not apply to me.”

He remains still only long enough to see confusion overtake Apollo’s attractive features before turning his back and walking to the edge of the water. He seats himself cross-legged and bides his time. He does not have long to wait.

“Return to me at once,” Apollo commands impetuously.

Spock examines the aquatic flora growing along the bank.

“Do you hear me?” Apollo booms, advancing behind him. “I demand it!”

Spock casts a casual look over his shoulder. Indignation is apparent in Apollo’s entire figure. He invites the former god to join him with a bow of his head. After a moment, tan legs appear next to Spock.

“What is the meaning of this disobedience?”

Spock finds his lips quirking at the pompous question in spite of himself.

“Will you sit?” he asks, by Vulcan standards, rather lightly.

Apollo huffs before lowering himself to the ground next to Spock.

“Explain yourself.”

“You may be extremely powerful,” Spock turns to him. “Even considered by many a god. But that does not grant you the right to overrule my decisions and wishes regarding my body.”

Apollo is plainly absorbing this information.

“Do you not wish to be my mate?”

“I wish to have my consent taken into account.”

It is evident the entity has never been issued such an ultimatum. He stares at Spock quizzically before speaking.

“What must I do to have you?”

“Ask.”

He stares at Spock for a moment.

“May I touch you?” he asks stiffly.

Spock nods solemnly.

“You may.”

Apollo smiles before propelling himself away from the bank and placing a strong hand on Spock’s waist. He pulls him closer until Spock finds himself seated upon muscled thighs, forced to wrap his arms around the entity’s neck to maintain his balance.

“You are cold,” Apollo observes.

“Vulcans naturally possess a lower body temperature than humans,” Spock explains. “Although I would not be opposed to, I believe the expression goes, warming up.”

The being runs hot hands along Spock’s sides and leans in more closely before catching himself.

“May I kiss you?”

Spock waits a moment before he answers, enjoying the impatience he sees play across the other man’s face.

“You may.”

Apollo tightens his grip on Spock’s trim, exposed waist and places a firm hand on his bare hip. He tilts his head up to meet Spock’s lips in an extended kiss.

Apollo’s mouth is warm and tastes vaguely spiced. He kisses deeply, making good use of his skilled tongue. Spock can feel Apollo’s hardness pressing against his leg, and he releases a sigh through his nose as the former god pulls back. He lays kisses and nips across Spock’s neck and what he can reach of his chest before retreating.

“May I see you?”

“Yes.”

Apollo grins and maneuvers Spock slightly away in order to view him fully. He eagerly pulls aside the fabric to reveal Spock’s bare body.

“Ah,” Apollo breathes. “More beautiful than I could have hoped.”

He runs appreciative hands across Spock’s dark-haired chest, thumbing his hard nipples. His gaze settles on Spock’s groin, and he smiles.

“Unexpected but more than welcome,” he nods. “I am familiar with the sheath as intimately as I am with the sword.”

Suppressing an eye roll at the extremely antiquated slang, Spock shakes his head.

“Vulcan reproductive anatomy differs from that of humans,” he explains softly. “My species’ equivalent of a human penis is referred to as a lok and, when flaccid, remains protected within...” - Spock quells a sigh at the irony of his next words - “a genital sheath. It extends when aroused, although the sheath may still be penetrated if a sexual partner so wishes.”

Apollo raises his eyebrows before smiling more widely.

“You are endlessly pleasing to me,” he declares, “from those delicate pointed ears down to this lovely little sheath.”

With that, he places a warm hand on Spock’s soft pussy, prompting a quiet moan from the Vulcan. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue as reaches around to squeeze a pert buttock before pulling back to meet Spock’s dark eyes.

Voice heavy with lust, he asks, “May I make love to you?”

“Please,” spock grunts.

Noting the larger man’s self-satisfied smirk, Spock finds himself lifted effortlessly from Apollo’s lap and lowered to the ground. He breathes deeply and can feel his lok descending as Apollo arranges himself above him, running a gentle thumb across his full lower lip.

“I cannot recall the last time I felt such strong desire,” Apollo notes.

Spock preens at the compliment. He reaches up to caress Apollo’s muscled chest and revels in the pleasure the smooth skin transmits through his sensitive hand. The entity rubs his fingers along Spock’s extended lok and his slick pussy lips, dipping them into his narrow passage. Spock suppresses a groan as Apollo sinks two digits in to the knuckle.

“Are you ready to take my shaft?” he asks bluntly, not stopping the thrusting of his fingers.

Spock bites his lip, nodding. Apollo chuckles warmly and lifts his toga, revealing his impressive length. Spock’s eyes widen as he views the man’s long, thick, dripping cock. It had been some time since he’d had a sexual partner so well endowed.

“Certain you can handle it?” Apollo says smugly.

“Yes, quite.”

At that, Apollo grips Spock’s skinny hips and raises them above the ground, gripping hard enough he will likely leave bruises. He situates himself between Spock’s spread legs, effortlessly continuing to hold Spock’s lower half up. Spock arches his back to accommodate the position and consciously relaxes himself when he feels a pressure at his sheath. Apollo guides Spock’s hips slowly onto his groin and thrusts, his girthy penis easily penetrating the tight heat. With a few more drives of his hips, he is buried in spock to the root. As he bottoms out, Spock gasps.

“You take me well,” the entity groans.

Spock writhes around him, clutching the grass he is lying in for purchase against the intense stimulation. He is eager for further movement of the member stretching him. Apollo begins bouncing Spock’s hips, maneuvering the Vulcan with as little effort as he might a rag doll. He pulls him onto his cock mercilessly, drawing soft cries from Spock’s parted lips. Spock’s hard lok bobs against his stomach with each bounce, spilling precum against the trail of hair leading to the member’s root. Apollo spares a hand to map the dark haired plains of Spock’s abdomen and chest, stopping to pinch and twist his nipples. Spock makes an attempt to hide his face in the fabric puddled at his shoulder as he turns his head to the side and closes his eyes.

“So eager, so worthy of my favor,” Apollo breathes.

Without pulling out, he releases his grip on Spock’s hips and instead lifts his long legs, holding them wide open and pressing his knees to his furred chest. Spock moans and extends his arms to wrap around the other man’s neck. 

Patience evidently once again exhausted, Apollo is thrusting in earnest, fucking into Spock deeply. His balls slap against the Vulcan’s tight ass with every plunge, and he presses his firm body flush against Spock’s. The being buries his face in the crook of Spock’s neck, nipping and sucking on the sensitive point of his ear. His thick cock is rubbing slickly against Spock’s inner walls and the base of his lok, sending spine-tingling pleasure throughout his body. Involuntarily, Spock wraps his legs around Apollo’s waist and tightens his grip around his broad shoulders, holding the athletic man impossibly closer.

Apollo reaches his hands between his body and Spock’s, continuing to massage Spock’s dark-haired breast. Spock gasps at this additional stimulation and knows his orgasm is approaching.

“Come,” Apollo commands in his ear.

Spock’s orgasm ravages him, forcing tremors through his body and a wordless cry from his lips. Apollo follows quickly after, groaning and spilling his hot seed deep within Spock for interminable seconds. When he finishes, he collapses atop Spock, nuzzling his neck and once again lazily kissing and biting his ear. Spock sighs and stretches languidly, enjoying the weight pinning him to the ground.

“I must admit that you were well worth the wait,” Apollo husks.

“I am pleased to have met your standards,” Spock responds.

Apollo sighs and lifts himself, sitting beside Spock as the smaller man stretches his legs.

“You have exceeded them. I am overjoyed at having gained such a bewitching mate,” he says, running a hand over Spock’s sharp cheekbone.

“A most flattering assessment,” Spock replies. “Tell me,” he continues sensually, “to what do I owe the preternatural prowess I have just enjoyed so thoroughly? Does it occur naturally within your species?”

“You are most curious,” Apollo notes, reclining on the grass.

“I am a scientist. It is in my nature to ask questions.” Spock moves closer to Apollo, nestling himself against his glistening body. “Do you have answers?”

Apollo huffs a laugh.

“I can say honestly that I do not.”

Spock begins to consider how else he may gain helpful information before Apollo continues.

“I know only that we- I gain some strength from the temple. I know not why, only that I become weaker when I have left from it for too long a time.”

Spock nuzzles the former god’s chest, pleased with his success. He must report to the away team as soon as possible.

“It is time for me to see if your companions have come to their senses,” Apollo muses, sitting up. “You may continue to rest here if you wish.”

“I believe I should like to join you,” he says casually, rising to his feet. “Perhaps I could assist in convincing my friends of your worthiness.”

Apollo looks at him with deep fondness, cupping his angular cheek in his hand and kissing him softly.

“Excellent. Then we shall go at once.”

The entity begins to walk before Spock stops him.

“Is there anything you could do,” he queries, “to alleviate my current condition?”

The larger man is puzzled for a moment before realization dawns across his face, drawing a jovial laugh from him.

“You do not wish your companions to see you with your clothing stained and my seed running down your thighs?”

“I do not.”

With a wave of Apollo’s hand, Spock and his toga are clean and dry. He straightens his garment and walks to Apollo’s side. Within a few moments, they have returned to the pavilion. The landing team is engaged in conversation around the central table but leap to their feet when they see the two have returned.

“Spock!” Jim exclaims, taking a step toward them.

McCoy stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Are you prepared to pay me the tribute which I deserve?” Apollo asks imperiously.

“We are not,” Jim responds, eyes remaining on Spock.

“I know you humans,” he snaps. “You need gods, masters. Someone to love and care for you.”

“You know nothing about our kind,” McCoy blurts.

“You know only our remote ancestors who trembled before your tricks,” Jim continues. “Your tricks don't frighten us, neither do you. We've come a long way in five thousand years.”

“But you're of the same nature. I could sweep you out of existence with a wave of my hand and bring you back again. I can give life or death. What else does mankind demand of its gods?”

“Mankind has no need for gods,” Palamas declares.

“We shall not debate, mortal,” he dismisses the group. “I offer you eternal rest and happiness according to the ancient ways. I ask little in return, but what I ask for I insist upon. Approach me.”

The group does not move.

“I said approach me!”

They continue to stand their ground.

“You shall reap the rewards of your insolence!” he roars. “See what your leader has brought upon himself.”

Spock tenses at these words.

Jim abruptly brings his hands to his throat, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He cannot breathe. Spock rushes to stand between Apollo and the group.

“Please,” he says, “stop this. Allow me time to convince them. Do not harm him further.”

If there is any hint of desperation in his voice, it is undoubtedly part of the act.

Apollo regards him for a moment before the sound of Jim’s gasping breaths reaches his ears. It is only logical to experience such deep relief at the safety of a capable and upstanding commanding officer.

“I will give you a few minutes alone. But if they remain unswayed, they will feel my wrath.”

He turns on his heel and disappears.

The group rushes to Spock.

“Spock,” Jim pants, not yet recovered from the violence visited upon him but still the first to reach Spock’s side. “Spock, are you okay? What did he do to you?”

Deep concern is evident on the face of every member of the landing party.

“I am unharmed, do not concern yourselves with me,” he replies cryptically. “He gains power from the temple.”

“Oh, well done, lad!” Scott smiles.

“Yes, Mister Spock, good work!” Chekov enjoins.

The group continues in their exclamations.

“Now all we have to do is take down that temple,” Jim states.

“Captain!” Palamas shouts. “The communicators are working. We’re receiving a transmission from the enterprise!”

“Captain,” Spock interjects. “If at all possible, I believe we should avoid killing Apollo. He is the last of his species and thus scientifically significant.”

Jim stares at him for a moment before huffing a fond laugh and nodding.

“If at all possible, Mister Spock.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twitter https://twitter.com/hesbianspock?s=21


End file.
